


The Gift

by Josselin



Series: Negotiations [5]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Butt Plugs, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 05:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin
Summary: Auguste tugged emphatically on one of Laurent's laces again. “I have a gift for the Akielon.”





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the middle of [Brother of Akielos, Brother of Vere](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612120).
> 
> Thank you to [violentincest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentincest/pseuds/violentincest) for editing!

The flag of the Veretian Crown Prince and the Akielon Crown Prince were flying at equal heights on the banner stands at Marlas. Auguste still scowled, seeing them in the courtyard. The red Akielon banner irritated him in the same way that the endless conversations for the summit had begun to irritate him. 

His father was stepping back from some of the day to day business of ruling, and had left the negotiations for the treaty to Auguste. Auguste had worked on the planning for several months, sending long missives back and forth with the Kyros of Delpha, Nikandros. 

Laurent was dismounting beside Auguste in the courtyard. Laurent had involved himself in all of the minutiae of the treaty. Laurent had read all of Nikandros’s missives--both their explicit content and a thorough inspection for hidden messages, of which Laurent found no evidence. Laurent had then drafted most of Auguste’s replies, and discussed them with his brother at length, sometimes proposing several alternatives before winning arguments with himself on the best approach. Laurent had full access to Auguste’s seal, so when the provisions under discussion were settled, it was Laurent who wrote back to Nikandros, often without even using a scribe, and then pressed Auguste’s seal to the paper with blue wax. 

Laurent always took a great interest in statecraft. Auguste relied on him significantly for background on how previous treaties had been drafted. Laurent provided Auguste with recommendations for how he should approach one or another of the nobles. When there was background on the interests in a particular issue of a member of the council, Laurent was Auguste’s source. Laurent liked being a shadow behind Auguste’s shoulder, and often played a fool in the court, laughing too much and asking questions that made him seem younger than he was to invite confidences and underestimation, and then reporting back to Auguste in the darkness of Auguste’s chambers about the loyalties of various members of the court.

Laurent had taken a particular interest in this treaty, though. It was a historic summit, the two countries had been on the verge of war and now about to sign an elaborate agreement of mutual protection opening trade along the borders.

Auguste didn’t think Laurent’s interest in the treaty was entirely about what would be written in the history books. He watched Laurent closely, tried to avoid flinching every time he heard Laurent pronounce “Akielos” -- practicing the Akielon pronounciation rather than using the Veretian “Achelos,” and told himself that he didn’t care if Laurent slept with the Crown Prince of Akielos again.

He hadn’t cared when Laurent had slept with Damianos the first time, either. If Laurent thought that it was amusing to bend over for the Akielon Prince and then rob him of his coin, then that was Laurent’s prerogative. Auguste had told him to distract the Prince, after all, and he hadn’t been specific about what methods Laurent would use. Auguste hasn’t expected Laurent would seduce the man--Laurent didn’t generally care for seduction as a method. Flirtation, yes, often, but he would leave his subject haunted and lovestruck and wanting. Damianos had not been wanting in the inn; he had been naked and sweaty and satisfied. 

Akielons were brutes, and perhaps they roused Laurent’s curiosity, but there was nothing that an Akielon could offer Laurent that Auguste didn’t already give him, even if he was a Prince.

It was possible that the man didn’t even know. Laurent had laughed, afterward, at how his disguise as “Louis” had apparently been convincing enough to deceive the Prince. The Prince may have long forgotten the one tumble that he had months ago in an inn, or he might not recognize that Louis--who had dripped with jewels borrowed from Ancel, had his eyes lined with kohl and his lips painted--was the same man as the Veretian second Prince. If the Akielon was blind enough to who Laurent had been in the first place, even with the pet disguise, probably he was too stupid to remember. Auguste ignored how Damianos’s Veretian had been fluent in their conversation at the inn--far better than Auguste’s own Akielon--and told himself that they should have written the treaty with smaller words. 

Auguste spent the first day of the summit finding himself reluctantly charmed by Prince Damianos and consistently frustrated by his brother. Damianos was polite, serious, a fine companion to watch sports with, and had done nothing more threatening to Laurent than politely grasp his hand when they were introduced.

Meanwhile, Laurent had spent the last three months fussing over every detail of the summit, from the order of the sporting events to the color of the tent silk, all with the persistent thought of “What the Akielons will think” and “Would this offend the Akielons” or “Is this really fair to the Akielon perspective?” When actually in front of the Akielons, Laurent was standoffish, quiet, and downright rude. Auguste was accustomed to seeing Laurent act in public--he often played a coquette, laughed too loud, pretended that drink was going to his head, or otherwise faked an appearance as part of a larger plan, which he usually confided to Auguste later, between the sheets. 

Laurent did not now seem to be acting. 

Negotiations began poorly. The first section of the treaty was about cloth and grain tariffs, and it was apparent immediately that the Kyros of Delpha didn’t know the first thing about cloth. He seemed to dismiss the distinction between Kemptian silk and Vaskian damask as trivial. Laurent kept tediously repeating the distinction in tariff rates as though that would educate the Akielons about what the types of cloth meant. Auguste thought about pointing out that Laurent’s jacket was silk and Auguste’s was damask and using their clothing to illustrate, but remained silent. 

The evening meal was a private one, and each of the royal camps adjourned to their own sides of the keep to eat. Auguste and Laurent were served together, and they sat in relative silence across the table while the servants brought food and took plates away. Laurent kept absently staring at the window that overlooked the courtyard. 

After the servants had cleared away the food, Auguste signalled one of them to refill his goblet with wine, and then gestured that they could leave. The door closed behind them. 

Auguste waited. Laurent was paranoid about talking in front of others: servants, the Prince’s Guard, Auguste’s pet Ancel. Sometimes when Laurent was quiet it was merely a sign that he was waiting for them to be alone. But even when there was no one else in the room, Laurent was still silent and thoughtful. 

After a period of quiet, Auguste’s wine goblet was half-full, and Laurent stood up from the table. “I am going to talk to Damen without Nikandros,” he said. Even the way he used the Prince’s small name annoyed Auguste, though Damianos had been earnest in inviting each of them to address him that way after they were introduced formally.

Auguste set his goblet on the table. “Come here,” he said.

Laurent walked over to where Auguste was seated obediently. He stood in front of Auguste. Auguste regarded him for a moment. Auguste rested his hands on Laurent’s jacket, one of them curled gently around Laurent’s waist, the other fingering the laces that ran up the front of the silk. The fabric was warm from Laurent’s body.

Auguste threaded a finger through one of the laces and pulled at it a little bit, and then, when the fabric of the jacket wrinkled, he moved his finger to even the lacing back out a bit and straighten it. His head felt filled with thoughts but he wasn’t certain how to put any of them into words.

Laurent began to seem impatient. He glanced at the door. 

Auguste tugged emphatically on one of his laces again. “I have a gift for the Akielon.”

“The ceremonial exchange of gifts isn’t until the end of the summit,” said Laurent. Laurent had fussed for weeks about an appropriate gift, and then overseen the wrapping and loading of the gift into a wagon himself. 

“Not that gift,” said Auguste.

Laurent’s lips formed a confused moue.

“A personal gift,” said Auguste. He raised one of his hands and placed a finger on Laurent’s protruding lower lip. “Fetch the box from my trunk.”

Laurent hesitated. Auguste tapped his finger on Laurent’s lip and then raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Laurent went off to the trunk on the other side of the room. The trunk was enameled and bore Auguste’s starburst emblem on the outside, and it was heavy enough when packed that it required three servants to carry it out of the wagon and to wherever Auguste was staying.

Laurent raised the lid, and bent over the trunk to sort carefully through the contents looking for the box. He set Auguste’s ermine cape off to the side delicately, and then moved a small glass mirror to rest gently on top of the cape. Underneath a set of hunting gloves, Laurent located the worn wooden box.

Laurent stood up with the box in his hands. He made as though he were going to open the box, and Auguste made a warning noise in his throat.

Laurent had seen the box before; he knew well what kinds of things Auguste usually kept within it, but he didn’t know what Auguste had packed into the box for this particular trip. 

Laurent crossed the room again and presented the box to Auguste.

Auguste took it. “Take off your clothes.”

Laurent hesitated again, but something in Auguste’s face must have encouraged him, because then he began unlacing his own jacket. Auguste watched for a moment, and once Laurent had shrugged out of his jacket and begun on his pants, Auguste set the box on a side table next to the bed and began removing his own clothes.

The two of them were changing Veretian fashions somewhat. When Auguste had been younger, and Laurent had been just a boy, fashions had been becoming all the more elaborate. Auguste remembered a jacket he’d had around the time of his coming of age that had featured a dozen bows, embroidered emeralds, and had laced up the back and the arms. It had taken two servants twenty minutes to get him in and out of it. 

When he and Laurent had started...what they did together...their interest in privacy grew. Laurent would bear no servants undressing them nor redressing them afterward, and their chambers were not connected. If they wanted to do more with each other than a noble might do with a pet amidst an entertainment, then they needed to wear clothing that they were able to take off and resume to rights afterwards without any more assistance than they were able to give each other. Auguste liked the press of Laurent’s skin to his, and he liked the way that Laurent’s fine skin reddened as they were together, so the Princes augmented their wardrobe with simpler outfits. Jackets that laced up the front, so they could be removed by the wearer. 

What the Princes wore, the court noticed, and so a general taste for simpler clothing had followed in Vere.

Laurent finished undressing first, his clothing stacked neatly on his chair, as Auguste was still slowly removing his shirt. Auguste could feel Laurent’s eyes on him, waiting, but he refused to rush. He was in no hurry for Laurent to head off to see the Akielon.

“Get the oil,” Auguste told Laurent.

Laurent fetched the oil from across the room. Auguste watched him walk across the stone floor and then back again with the jar. He had a proprietary feeling about Laurent’s body as he moved. 

Laurent held out the jar to Auguste.

Auguste didn’t reach for it. “Prepare yourself,” he said.

Laurent made a face. He preferred Auguste to do this, and Auguste often indulged him, but today he simply waited.

Laurent stood, awkwardly holding the oil. He looked at the bed and then back at Auguste. Auguste didn’t direct him, just waited.

Laurent remained standing. He was always impatient with preparation. His efforts this time were particularly perfunctory. Auguste would often make him do it better. Draw things out and tease Laurent a bit. But he wasn’t in the mood for that this evening. He disliked how Laurent’s head seemed to already be off in his negotiations with the Akielon, as though the tariff rates on cloth weighed heavy on his mind. 

“Bend over the bed,” Auguste said. 

Laurent did, slowly. He still seemed to be feeling out Auguste’s mood, uncertain. He rested his forearms on the top of the bedcovers and turned his head to look back at Auguste. Auguste stood next to him.

Auguste drew a hand along Laurent’s back, tracing along the milky skin along the knobs of his spine. Laurent arched, ticklish. Auguste moved his hand along Laurent’s spine again, more firmly, exerting pressure against Laurent’s arch to cause him to bow his back the other way, presenting his buttocks more prominently. 

Laurent’s skin was clear and unmarked. Auguste thought about the Akielon touching Laurent and he didn’t like it. 

Auguste lowered his hand from the bottom of Laurent’s spine and touched Laurent’s hole, where Laurent had spread oil cursorily. He pressed two fingers inside, slowly. He liked how tightly Laurent’s body grasped his fingers. 

The silence in the room felt heavy. Neither of them were talking. Laurent shifted his stance, slightly, widening the position of his feet. Auguste could see that Laurent was half-hard, starting to rouse from Auguste’s orders and his touch. Auguste pressed his fingers deeper, and scissored them within Laurent, assessing and stretching. He curled his fingers, to tease Laurent a bit, and he stroked himself with his other hand, bringing himself to full hardness and waiting.

He wasn’t certain what he was waiting for. Just that he wasn’t ready yet and he felt no urge to rush. He kept two fingers slowly moving inside Laurent and stroked himself with the same slow pace.

Laurent began to complain. “Brother--”

Auguste decided he wasn’t interested in what Laurent’s complaint was. At the sound of Laurent’s voice, he removed his fingers and used his hand to position the head of his cock against the tight hole, and pushed. Auguste could feel Laurent bracing himself on the bed as Auguste pressed inside. Then his hips were pressed against Laurent’s, and Laurent had to brace further against Auguste’s weight. 

Auguste leaned into him for a moment, feeling Laurent tense and counterbalance to press back against him. Laurent was warm and tight around him and he bit his lip lightly at the sensation. 

He fucked Laurent lazily. He drew out slowly and pressed in slowly, keeping his strokes shallow. It was exactly the kind of fucking that Laurent liked least, and Auguste felt in no hurry about it. He watched his cock entering Laurent, and then he watched the stretch of Laurent’s hole as he withdrew and it tried to cling to him. He drew out completely, to see the glimpse of the pink inside of Laurent’s body, and then pressed in again. 

Laurent tolerated this for a few minutes, and then he began to be impatient. He shifted his hips, trying to angle Auguste’s strokes more satisfactorily within himself, and Auguste rested his hands on Laurent’s hips to settle him back the way Auguste preferred. Then Laurent pressed back against him, trying to press Auguste deeper, and Auguste tightened his grip on Laurent’s hips again.

Laurent used words. “Come on,” he said. “Do it properly.”

“Shh,” said Auguste, deliberately refusing to adjust his pace. 

Laurent seemed to sense that pulling one of his hands away from the bed to touch himself would be a bad idea, and kept his forearms pressed against the bedding. Laurent arched his head back, making a frustrated noise, and then let it drop, hanging toward his hands and the bedding. Waiting.

Auguste rewarded him with a deeper stroke. 

After the fucking had gone on for some time, Auguste felt like talking. “This is my gift for the Akielon,” he told Laurent. Laurent made no response, and Auguste continued, matching the mild tone of his voice to the slow pace of how he was using Laurent’s body. “Making a mess of you, just because I can.”

He pulled out a bit too far, and his cock slipped from Laurent’s body, and his next stroke simply rubbed against the curve of Laurent’s ass. Auguste liked that also, seeing the length of his cock against Laurent’s body and visualizing that when he fucked inside of Laurent that was how deep his cock managed. Laurent whined, still impatient.

Auguste used his hand to adjust and pressed inside of Laurent again. “Filling you exactly the way that you deserve,” he said. 

He traced along the rim of Laurent’s hole, feeling the stretch of it around his cock. “You open up for me because you know this is what you need,” he told Laurent. “You tighten up around me because you want it so much.”

That was a cue, and Laurent took it, tightening his muscles, and Augusted let out a satisfied breath. 

“Please,” Laurent said. “Please.”

Auguste liked that, and so he reached one of his hands around to touch Laurent’s cock. He thought about bringing Laurent off. Satisfying him before he even went off to the Akielon. He stroked Laurent absently as he pursued his own finish.

He bent over Laurent’s back for the final thrusts, using the position to brace himself better to finish deep inside of his brother. He panted for a moment, thrust again through the aftershocks, and then said, “Clench up, don’t let any spill,” to Laurent, and withdrew slowly. 

Laurent remained bent over, trembling. Auguste reached for the wooden box he had set aside earlier. He flipped the catch on the box, and opened the lid. There were several things inside, but Auguste had one in particular he was thinking of.

It was new. It was a glass ornament that had the shape of a budding tulip, narrow and rounded at the point that was to be inserted, then widening into a larger bulb, then narrow again at the step, with a base to secure it on the outside. The base was decorated, where it would protrude from Laurent’s body, carved with Auguste’s starburst emblem. 

Auguste dipped the tip of the toy in the jar of oil. Laurent was craning his head to try to see what Auguste was doing. “Hold still,” Auguste told him, meaning, stop trying to look. Laurent understood, and turned his head to look down at the bed once again. 

Laurent’s hole was pink and slightly open from Auguste’s cock. There was a pearly drop of seed near the entrance, and Auguste used the toy to press it--and the girth of the toy--inside of Laurent. He had to exert a bit of pressure, at first, to insert the toy up to the widest point, and then Laurent’s body welcomed it, and it sunk within up to the carved base.

Laurent moaned. “What is that?”

“My gift,” Auguste said. 

He admired the picture in front of him, Laurent’s skin flushed pink with exertion and lightly damp with sweat, his hole clenched tightly around Auguste’s emblem. He decided that Laurent deserved to see what a nice picture he made, and he fetched the small glass mirror he had in his trunk and brought it over. He held the mirror and when Laurent craned his neck to look this time, Auguste did not rebuke him.

He let Laurent see in the mirror what Auguste saw in front of him. Laurent’s legs spread, his cock hard between them. His hole was pink with use and the glass ornament bearing Auguste’s seal emerging. This was a view that Laurent rarely saw; his face was flushing as he looked back in the mirror. 

The Akielon wouldn’t like that, Auguste thought smugly. Laurent was trying to settle a treaty with the man, not start a war. He wasn’t going to confess to the Akielon that he was fucking his older brother. 

“This will keep your pants on,” Auguste told Laurent, hearing the satisfaction in his own voice. Let Laurent go see the Akielon if he wanted. All he could do now was go to his knees, and if Laurent wanted to gag on Damianos’s cock, Auguste cared very little.

“You may go now,” Auguste said.

Laurent remained bent over the bed, his head hanging. “I’m still--” He hadn’t come; his cock was still hard between his legs.

“Come back later,” Auguste told him. “Perhaps I will attend to that then.”

Laurent whimpered. 

Auguste retrieved his goblet from the table and finished his wine while he watched Laurent dress. Laurent moved slowly. He laced his pants carefully, obviously struggling with the glass toy inside him and arranging his hard cock carefully.

Laurent had to sit to relace his court boots, and he grimaced at the pressure as he did so, his face tightening. Auguste smiled. 

Laurent finished dressing and turned toward the door. 

“Come here,” Auguste said. 

Laurent turned obediently and came in front of Auguste again. Auguste set his empty goblet down on the table. He was still naked, and Laurent was completely redressed. Auguste rested his hands on Laurent’s waist the way he had earlier. He ran a finger down Laurent’s lacing, then lower and let it trace the bulge of Laurent’s cock in his pants. 

Laurent hissed. 

“Be good, Brother,” he said. “Don’t give way on the grain tariffs. That is very important.”

Laurent swallowed hard, obviously suppressing an urge to say something vicious, and then turned toward the door. He wanted to flounce out, Auguste could tell, but his step was cautious because of the plug still within him, and the door closed behind him on the sound of Auguste’s laughter.


End file.
